


Scattered Feathers

by HaxanHexes (PineNeedles)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Breathplay, Cock & Ball Torture, Creampie, Deepthroating, Disobedient Sub, Dom/sub Play, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fingers in Mouth, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Jewish Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Jewish Character, Light Bondage, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Names, Pinching, Praise Kink, Rough Body Play, Smut, Snowballing, Trans Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Trans Female Character, Vaginal Sex, frenemies to lovers, frustration sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 06:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10299962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineNeedles/pseuds/HaxanHexes
Summary: "She isn’t sure how long they stand there, staring knives, locked in each other’s smoldering glares. Fareeha watches Angela’s face—nostrils flaring, blue eyes defiant—and she’s caught between the desire to slap the doctor herself or simply pull the other woman into a kiss.Angela seems to be having similar ideas, and within moments they’re cutting through the tension and frustration between them with grasping hands and eager lips, the taste and smell of Angela’s body rushing over her like an intoxicant as their bodies meet."Fareeha Amari and Angela Ziegler get in a fight, and find new and interesting ways to make-up.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [k-it](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=k-it).



> Written in response to a prompt from my friend, asking for "pharmercy frustration sex. angst. enemies to lovers. go gogo." A short, simple smut piece became something much longer.
> 
> Thank you to [BZArcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BZArcher/), [smokeopossum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/), [renegate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renegate/), and [Sheut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheut) for beta-ing. Thanks to [buttons](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttons15/) for reading and letting me know, fervently, that I am not vanilla. Thank you to all my other friends who read early drafts and encouraged me as I progressed.
> 
>   **Things to note:**
> 
> Fareeha is trans here, hence having a penis.
> 
> Angela is Jewish here, hence gratuitous Yiddish pet names.
> 
> Breathplay can be incredibly risky, and should not be engaged in without the utmost caution and care. Always practice safe and consensual kink.
> 
> See end notes for translations and further notes.

_ sweet baby. this. is how we pull language out of one another with the flick of our tongues. this is how we have the conversation. this. is how we make up. _

— Rupi Kaur, “how we make up”  
  


Fareeha knew getting involved with Angela had been a mistake. They had always been close, but their lives had taken completely divergent paths. Angela can’t even begin to understand what being a soldier means to Fareeha, and Fareeha for her part finds Angela’s unyielding commitment to pacifism naive at best.

They’d been able to sustain their differences in a friendship, even if sometimes it’s dangerously strained, but a romantic entanglement is simply unmanageable. Even if there’s so much in Angela that Fareeha loves and admires, even if the other woman’s smile makes her melt, some things can never turn out like you want. That’s life.

Hence  _ this _ , the two proud, stubborn women standing in the middle of the doctor’s Zürich apartment screaming at each other in the middle of the afternoon. Fareeha hates being angry. Even on the battlefield she tries to keep a cool head and a spring in her step—life is just too short, after all, but something about Angela manages to grate her in ways nothing else can. 

Fareeha might as well be a match, and Angela a striker stripe. It becomes all too easy to give into rage.

“To think I expected anything but—but—absolute  _ brutishness _ from you!” Angela shouts, her cheeks red with anger. Fareeha hates how, even when she’s furious, Angela looks beautiful.

_ “Excuse me?” _ Fareeha snaps back. “I  _ protect _ people, Angela. You might not appreciate what I put my  _ life _ on the line for, but you have no right to judge!” Beautiful or not, Fareeha can’t even look at her. She can’t bear it any longer, finally turning her back on the doctor. “Calling me a ‘brute,’ unbelievable...”

“Don’t turn your back on me!” Angela grabs Fareeha and spins her around. The doctor is shorter and weaker than the soldier, but Fareeha had let her guard down, not expecting things to get physical. 

“Get your hands off of me, Angela!” Fareeha shouts, barely keeping her balance and tugging away from the other’s grip.

“You couldn’t get enough of my hands the other night, Fareeha,” Angela snaps back, her face a mask of absolutely self-satisfied petulance. 

Fareeha steps forward, closing the gap between them, leaning down into Angela’s face. “And what about you _ , habibti?” _ She pronounces the endearment without the slightest warmth. _ “You _ certainly seemed to enjoy my  _ rough, blood-stained killer’s hands _ in your most vulnerable places.”

Angela looks flustered for the briefest moment. “I—!”

“Not so pleasant to have  _ that _ one turned around on you, is it?” Fareeha sneers. “You want to call me a brute and a killer. But my killer’s hands made you  _ writhe _ with pleasure. You  _ demanded _ I slip them inside you.”

“Listen—!”    

“You listen! You  _ demanded _ my mouth, my hands, my body! Did laying with a ‘murderer’ excite you?”

“Fareeha—!”

“No, Angela! I’m not just a  _ fuck _ you get to berate when you’re done with me,” Fareeha rants on. “You—you—you hypocritical witch!”

Angela sets her jaw in a hard line and glares up at Fareeha. “I’m a  _ hypocrite,  _ am I? “ She asks, her voice quivering with fury. “As if you were just a  _ fuck _ to me,  _ mein Gott! _ I  _ fear _ for you, Fareeha. Playing hero, buying into this Recall nonsense, breaking the law! This isn’t a child’s game of make believe, people’s  _ lives _ are involved!”

Fareeha huffs in disgust. “Overwatch  _ protects _ people, Angela!”

“Overwatch took your mother!” Angela retorts. Fareeha isn’t sure if it’s the actual volume of Angela’s voice or the content of the sentence, but it feels like the loudest either of them had been for the entire fight.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room like a pall, the pair nose to nose, staring each other down, absolutely furious until Fareeha finally breaks the silence. “How  _ dare _ you? You do  _ not _ get to speak of her.”

“She was my friend,” Angela says.

“And she was my mother!” Fareeha shouts, grabbing Angela by the collar and staring her dead in the eyes. “You want to talk about children’s games, Angela? You’re thirty-seven and you still can’t accept that  _ death is a fact.  _ Your parents died and now you’re like a child with a fear of the dark!”

Angela tugs herself free from Fareeha’s grip and slaps the taller woman clean across the cheek, the sound as loud and bracing as a sudden clap of thunder. Fareeha raises one hand, gently brushing her now stinging skin. Angela takes a step closer and silently glares up at Fareeha, the taller woman returning her gaze. 

She isn’t sure how long they stand there, staring knives, locked in each other’s smoldering glares. Fareeha watches Angela’s face—nostrils flaring, blue eyes defiant—and she’s caught between the desire to slap the doctor herself or simply pull the other woman into a kiss. 

Angela seems to be having similar ideas, and within moments they’re cutting through the tension and frustration between them with grasping hands and eager lips, the taste and smell of Angela’s body rushing over her like an intoxicant as their bodies meet. 

The kiss is messy, all clicking teeth and lashing tongues. Fareeha entwines her arms around Angela to draw her closer, hands gripping the cloth of the doctor’s blouse. Angela’s hands grip Fareeha’s strong shoulders in turn, and the lighter woman hops up, climbing Fareeha’s body as though it were a pole, legs wrapping around Fareeha’s waist.

As they kiss Fareeha loses her balance and stumbles backwards. She falls back onto the living room couch, releasing an “oof” right into Angela’s mouth. The other woman doesn’t speak; she simply unwraps her legs and straddles Fareeha, pressing her back against the couch cushions.

Angela still looks a little angry, and Fareeha is certain she does too, but their mutual fury seems to be more of an aphrodisiac than anything. Fareeha can feel the hardness of her own sex pressing uncomfortably against the inside of her jeans. 

Angela pulls Fareeha’s tank top over her head so hastily she almost wrenches Fareeha’s neck to the side. Her sports bra goes next and is flung to the floor, leaving Fareeha bare chested beneath Angela’s body.

Fareeha then slips her fingers between two of the buttons of Angela’s blouse. The doctor gives her a sour look, but Fareeha just locks eyes with her and pulls hard. A couple buttons pop off the blouse to reveal the slightest hint of the doctor’s lacey, black bra. 

“Fareeha!” Angela scolds. “This blouse is expensive.”

“I know,” Fareeha says with a smirk, pulling again, harder, and popping the rest of the buttons off. They scatter across the floor like marbles as Fareeha tugs Angela’s bra beneath her breasts and pulls her lover’s lithe form close. 

“Bitch…” Angela murmurs, but doesn’t offer the slightest resistance.

Fareeha brushes kisses across Angela’s breast and hungrily encircles one pink nipple with her lips. A shudder runs through Angela’s body from the base of her spine to the top of her head. Her nails dig into Fareeha’s scalp as the other’s tongue traces the edge of her areola.

_ “Scheiße... “ _ Angela is panting now. “...you bitch.”

She gasps for air, evidently struggling to control herself. Fareeha loves the way her slightest touch can elicit the most visceral reactions from Angela; the way the doctor—who loves control so desperately—will fall apart in her arms. 

Still, Angela finally finds the strength to push Fareeha back against the couch again, and takes the soldier’s chin in one hand. Her now thoroughly mussed hair falls over her face in a beautiful cascade as she stares Fareeha in the eyes.

“You touch me when I  _ tell _ you to touch me,” she says, her voice icy. “Now lay back. Doctor’s orders.” 

As much as she loves disrupting the doctor’s mask of perfection and control, Fareeha loves how Angela can take the reins just as much. Possibly more. Still, she can’t make it too easy. “Fuck you,” she says without moving an inch.

Angela huffs and shoves her back against the cushions. “Believe me, you will.”

She runs her hands across Fareeha’s scarred torso, tracing between the woman’s sculpted abs and up between her breasts. Two fingers close around one of her nipples and tweak it. Fareeha shudders and moans as Angela leans down and applies her teeth to the other nipple, biting and sucking so roughly it makes Fareeha gasp.

Fareeha tries to pierce the heady haze of desire and remember the safe word the pair had agreed on. It was some kind of precious stone, but she’s having trouble remembering. Opal? Ruby? “S-S-Sapphire!” she stammers just as Angela’s fingers are forcing their way into her jeans.

Angela immediately snaps away from Fareeha’s body, suddenly alert and concerned. “Was that too much,  _ hartse?” _

Fareeha looks to the side bashfully. “I… Just wanted to call it to make sure you  _ would  _ stop.”

Angela’s brow knits and her face expresses something between concern and consternation. She places one hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. “We’re fighting, Fareeha,” she says, “but I will always stop. Of course.” 

Fareeha relaxes. “I get defensive…” She trails off as Angela leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I know you do,” Angela whispers.

Fareeha can’t help but nuzzle into the crook of Angela’s neck, but before she can make herself comfortable, Angela shoves her back against the cushions again, the blonde’s face snapping back to the cool mask of a domme. Angela sits back straight, and tweaks one of Fareeha’s nipples with one hand. “How dare you doubt me?” she asks, voice as cold and brittle as ice.

As their game resumes, Fareeha flashes her lover a cheeky grin in spite of the pain. “You’re just so easy to doubt,” she says.

“Such a brat,” Angela muses. “I’ll work that out of you soon enough.” She unbuttons Fareeha’s jeans and pulls them mid-way down her thighs. “Now what do we have here?” she asks with a sly smirk, brushing the back of her hand along Fareeha’s shaft through the soldier’s boxers.

Fareeha moans softly beneath Angela’s caress, her hips arching reflexively, hungry for further touch. Angela chuckles and gently taps the tip of Fareeha’s cock through the fabric. There’s already the slightest point of wetness bleeding through the material. 

“So eager,” Angela continues as she walks her fingers up to the lip of Fareeha’s boxers. Her nails drag enticingly along Fareeha’s skin as they creep down, hiking the boxers down her legs. “Perhaps  _ breaking _ you will be easy after all.”

Fareeha lets out a shuddering breath as the elastic brushes against her body’s most sensitive skin. Angela purrs and gives Fareeha’s now exposed sex a predatory appraisal. One hand delicately cups Fareeha’s testicles, as if weighing them. 

“Remember,  _ Müsli,”  _ Angela says, “no touching.” She squeezes Fareeha’s testicles, enough to make the other gasp for breath. “Or you might find you regret it.” Her tone is almost playful, in the same way a hunting cat is playful. And Fareeha is the mouse.

Fareeha whines and digs her heels into the carpeting, writhing beneath Angela’s grip. “U-Understood,” she stammers as she digs her fingers into the couch’s cushions.

“Good, you’re learning,” Angela says, leaning in as she releases her grip. Fareeha can feel Angela’s hot breath play across her skin, and it’s maddening.

A single trail of pre-cum is tracing its way down the length of Fareeha’s cock, and Angela intercepts it with the tip of her tongue. She carefully follows its path in reverse, the teasing lightness of the contact only amplifying Fareeha’s pleasure. 

Fareeha shudders, fingers clawing at the upholstery and toes curling in the soft carpeting. It feels as if the tip of Angela’s tongue is blazing a trail of fire across her shaft. Then Angela reaches the head. The blonde’s pearly teeth graze Fareeha’s skin as her mouth encircles the tip. 

_ “Ah!” _ Fareeha gasps, her voice unusually flustered and girlish. She’s already dizzy with a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

The corners of Angela’s lips curl up, even as more of the cock disappears into her mouth, eliciting further gasps from Fareeha. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive tip, the sensation so overwhelming it practically winds Fareeha.

Angela gets the better part of the shaft in her mouth before she starts to choke, but she presses on. She grips Fareeha’s thighs, digging her nails into their soft brown skin as she forces herself to take it all in, centimeter by centimeter. 

The couch no longer suffices—Fareeha is now pawing helplessly at her own face, one hand digging its blunted nails into her cheek, the other tugging at a fistful of luxurious, dark hair. Angela barely manages to encircle the base of Fareeha’s cock with her lips, her struggle audible in the squelching coming from the warm, wet recesses of her throat.

Angela swallows, her tongue lapping at the underside of Fareeha’s prick and her throat closing around its tip. Fareeha, for her part, let’s out another husky moan, each new sound that involuntarily leaves her lips more desperate than the last.

Angela leans back, away from Fareeha and gasps for air, long, sticky strings of saliva drawing a bridge between her lips and Fareeha’s penis. Angela’s eyeliner is beginning to run at the corners, her lipstick is smeared and there’s a look of absolute lust in her beautiful blue eyes. The sight is nearly enough to stop Fareeha’s heart—she can’t help but release another shuddering whimper.

“Now, now,  _ mayn feygele _ ,” Angela says between gasping breaths. “Do not get too excited. I haven’t given you permission to come. You still have work to do.”

Fareeha finds a great deal of pleasure in submission, but she doesn’t want to make things easy for Angela—not in general, bratty sub that she is, but particularly not after their fight. A soldier doesn’t go down easy. She pushes through the fog enough to make a decision.

As Angela leans in to takes Fareeha in her mouth a second time, she readies one hand. Once again Angela takes her whole, and by the time she’s leaning back for a breath Fareeha’s hand is shaking. Nonetheless, Fareeha surges forward, gripping Angela’s hair by her ponytail and forcing her back down between Fareeha’s legs.

Angela chokes and sputters for the split second Fareeha holds her there, then reels back and gasps, fury in her eyes even as she catches her breath. Fareeha shoots her a cocky, if shaky, grin and waves from the couch. If things go anything like  _ last _ time she pulled that stunt, she was about endure a very intense, very pleasurable ordeal.

Angela stands and leans over Fareeha. “There’s a fine line between bravery and foolishness,  _ Schätzli,” _ she whispers immediately before tightly grabbing Fareeha’s balls with her left hand and firmly taking Fareeha’s throat in her right. She locks eyes with her, then squeezes lightly with her left hand, pain making Fareeha’s smirk increasingly difficult to maintain.

“You’re a dire case, Fary,” she muses. “It seems I’ll have to try more extreme measures.” She releases Fareeha, and the younger woman gasps for breath, nearly curling into a fetal position.

“Sapphire?” Angela asks, one eyebrow arching.

Fareeha shakes her head.

Angela unbuttons her skirt and shimmies it down her legs before stepping out of it. “You’re certain?”

Breathing deep and drenched in sweat, Fareeha nods. “Yes,” she says.

“Still the tough soldier, even off the battlefield,” Angela jests as she removes her hair band, shaking out her long, fluffy locks as she slips it around her wrist. “There’s no shame in saying it if you’ve had enough.”

“Still the controlling doctor, even outside the hospital,” Fareeha says with a chuckle. “Not tapping out yet,  _ habibti.” _

Angela throws her ruined blouse on the couch next to Fareeha and pulls her bra over her head. “Very well then, sit up and accept your punishment.”

Fareeha sits straight, leaning back with as much feigned ease as she can muster. In reality, her every nerve is on a knife’s edge and the expectation is nearly too much to bare.  She doesn’t resist as Angela roughly grabs her arm and rolls her over, forcing her kneel on the couch as her wrists are crudely tied together with Angela’s bra.

Even equal parts exhausted and aroused, it’s a knot that Fareeha could easily snap in a second, yet in her imagination they’re stainless steel cuffs. Playing the role is half the fun, after all.

“Roll over,” Angela says.

“I’m not your dog,” Fareeha retorts over one shoulder. Still can’t make it  _ too _ easy… but she can hear the defiant edge in her tone softening.

Angela lifts one bare foot and presses on Fareeha’s hip, unbalancing the soldier and sending her flopping over onto her side. The doctor grabs her by the arm and pulls, completing the turn, leaving Fareeha’s bound hands beneath her at the small of her back.

“You’re not my dog  _ yet,” _ Angela corrects. She kneels before Fareeha and tugs off the woman’s jeans and boxers completely, before once again taking the woman’s still aching balls in her hands. She pulls the hair band off her wrist and over the soldier’s testicles. 

“Oh.” This was not what Fareeha had been expecting.

_ “Oh.” _ Angela repeats with a smug grin. She twists the hair band around, tightening the loop around Fareeha’s balls before letting the elastic snap against Fareeha’s skin. “You can still say ‘sapphire,’ you know.”

Fareeha squirms and shudders helpessly. “D-Do… Do your worst…” she whispers, her performance of defiance becoming increasingly less convincing.

Angela crawls up on the couch, curling up next to Fareeha and retrieving her blouse. She wraps the white silk around Fareeha’s neck and pulls just enough to restrict Fareeha’s breathing.

“Snap for me,  _ hartse,” _ Angela says. 

Fareeha snaps her fingers once, the sound muted by her body but audible. Angela immediately loosens the blouse to let Fareeha breath. The pair had, after their first night together, taken the time to thoroughly discuss their kinks. Nearly everything they’d done thus far had been carefully negotiated (the hair band as a testicle cuff having come as a titillating surprise), and when the topic of choking and gagging had been raised they’d decided on fingers snaps as an alternative to their safe word. One snap for  _ let me breath, _ two snaps for  _ stop. _

Angela tightens the blouse again. “Two snaps for me, now,” she instructs. 

Fareeha snaps twice and the blouse is slipped free of her neck. Even with the built up frustration between them, and the extremity of their sexual proclivities, the thing Fareeha feels most at these moments is profoundly safe. It almost reminds her of the trust she put in her commanding officers in the military.

_ “Ist das gut so?” _ Angela asks as she begins to wrap the blouse around Fareeha’s neck again.

_ “Sehr gut,” _ Fareeha whispers back.

Angela tenderly brushes a lock of hair from Fareeha's eyes. “Snap or say ‘sapphire’ if you need,  _ Schätzli,”  _ she says softly. “There really is no shame.”

“I know, Angela,” Fareeha says with a dreamy smile.

Angela smiles back. “Very well then,” she says. “The doctor will see you now.”

Fareeha is about to make an attempt at a cheeky reply when the blouse is once again snapped tightly around her neck. She chokes and squirms as Angela's lithe fingers once again wrap around her member. It had grown softer during their check-in, but Angela's skillful touch is quick to return it to complete firmness.

Angela works steadily with her hand as Fareeha squirms breathlessly.  _ Snap. _ The blouse is quickly loosened and Fareeha gasps for breath. Angela leans down, brushing a tuft of soft hair behind one ear as she takes Fareeha in her mouth. Fareeha’s hips buck and she arches her back, muscles knotting as a moan escapes her throat.

Once her cock is thoroughly coated, Angela sits up, once again working with one hand as she begins to tighten the blouse again. Fareeha for her part is debilitated by the swirl of pain and pleasure. The blouse cutting into her throat, the hair tie cutting into her scrotum and the vigorous grip of Angela’s fingers around her cock are enough to melt any remaining, feigned displays of resistance.

Every inch of her body feels like  _ fire, _ but the touch of Angela’s bare skin against hers is positively searing. She feels completely naked and stripped bare, every knot of stress and stubbornness in her body unraveling. Even the slightest touch from Angela feels like enough to unmake her completely, yet at the same time she feels impossibly whole.

_ Snap.  _ The blouse loosens, but Angela’s other hand refuses to relent. Fareeha’s deep, shuddering breath is interrupted by a surprised gasp as Angela circles her palm directly on the tip of Fareeha’s prick, the feeling of her soft skin gliding across Fareeha’s urethra so overwhelming she’s taken by a full body shudder. 

Her consciousness has melted into a sea of sensation so vast that Fareeha could hardly speak of it. That is, if she could still control her mouth enough to speak at all. As it is, all she can muster is a helpless stream of moans and whimpers. She desperately wants to come, to vent the volcanic eruption building between her legs, but the hair band makes it harder. 

Besides, Angela hasn’t given her permission.

The blouse tightens again and Angela leans in, brushing soft kisses against Fareeha’s cheek. Fareeha, for her part, feels as though her eyes are going to roll back into her head. Even the relatively slight deprivation of oxygen is enough to make her feel giddy. 

She tries to snap her fingers again but her motor skills are so far gone she can hardly touch her thumb and middle finger together, let alone snap them.  Angela is keeping a careful eye on her, however, and the blouse is quickly loosened. 

Fareeha had hardly noticed, but every time the blouse is pulled tight she begins counting.  _ “Eins… Zwei… Drei... _ _ ” _ she steadily whispers. Every few seconds she loosens the blouse once again, even in the absence of a snap, careful never to deny Fareeha air for too long.

The next time the blouse tightens, it’s gentler, tugging with the slightest, most enticing pressure. Angela slows her strokes, building them up deep and methodically, and Fareeha feels as if she might climax, whether Angela commands it or not. She’s perched on a knife’s edge, and all she needs is the slightest push to froth over.

And then suddenly the hand leaves her cock, and the blouse is whisked from her throat. She looks around in blank confusion, uncertain precisely what’s going on, her shaft still quivering despite the absence of Angela’s hand.

Angela clicks her tongue as she languorously reclines next to Fareeha.  _ “Mayn hartse,  _ you need to  _ earn _ your orgasm,” she chides. She curls her painted toes in the carpeting, cherry red nails digging into the cream coloured softness. One manicured finger points at the floor between her legs.

Fareeha doesn’t need her duty spelled out. She sinks off the couch, Angela holding and steadying her as she gets to her knees. She shuffles over to Angela, knees scuffing on the rug, until she’s prostrate between Angela’s milky thighs. 

Angela leans forward, her index finger hooking Fareeha's chin and her thumb gently caressing the Egyptian's lips. The faint touch makes Fareeha's lips quiver, and a shudder dances along her spine. 

“What beautiful lips you have,  _ Schätzli,”  _ the Swiss muses. “How lucky I am to have command of them. And I do have command of them, do I not?”

Fareeha's breath hitches her in throat as she opens her lips slightly to respond. Angela's thumb explores further into the other's mouth, enough to be titillating but not to impede speech. 

“Yes,” Fareeha replies, practically gasping the word.

“Yes…?”

“Mistress,” Fareeha continues. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good,” Angela whispers. “How lovely you are when you're obedient,  _ mayn ketzele.”  _ The doctor smiles softly, her free hand gently running its fingers through the soldier's hair. Fareeha is aware of how pregnant the moment is with potential for a snide comment on soldiers and orders, but it never arrives. Just gentle caresses and the one thing that makes Fareeha weaker than submission and humiliation: praise.

Fareeha lets out a soft whimper as Angela's thumb slides deeper into her mouth. Her eyes flutter closed as her lips encircle it, her tongue rising to meet it as she takes it as far back into her mouth as she's able.

Angela, for her part, lets out a husky purr as she slowly thrusts her thumb in and out of Fareeha's mouth. She soon opts to switch her index and middle finger for her thumb, slowly probing to the back of Fareeha's throat.

Angela presses down on Fareeha's tongue, eliciting the slightest choking noise from the submissive. It makes Fareeha gag a little—no doubt punishment for her earlier misbehaviour—but she remains composed and obedient. Anyway, her gag reflex was far more sensitive before she began seeing Angela.

“Well done, darling,” Angela says, removing her fingers from Fareeha's mouth and taking the other's cheek in her saliva-slick hand. The sensation makes Fareeha quake—the warm, sticky wetness evoking a more intimate fluid.

“Now,” Angela continues, “be a good girl and show me what else that mouth can do.” The doctor smiles, at once angelic and wicked. “Do well and you'll be rewarded.”

Fareeha nods and leans in, taking her lover’s panties in her teeth. Even if she wanted to, she doesn’t have the composure to avoid nipping Angela’s skin as she pulls them down the doctor’s legs. Angela squirms and shudders at the sharp pinch of Fareeha’s teeth, and once the panties have reached her legs, she kicks them off and across the room.

Angela spreads and arches to give Fareeha the perfect view of, and access to, her cunt. The pink slit crowned with a soft bush of fine golden hair is dripping wet, Angela’s eagerness staining her thighs and soaking into the couch cushions. Fareeha leans in again to plant a trail of kisses along Angela’s thighs, up to the slick entry of her vulva.

One of Angela’s hands finds purchase in Fareeha’s hair as the latter’s tongue parts the lips of her sex, her other hand clawing at the couch's cushion covers. A breathy moan escapes from the blonde's other pair of lips as she rocks her hips forward in an effort to gain precious closeness to her lover's tongue.

Fareeha carefully plumbs Angela's depths, working her tongue in deeper in languorous circles. Each time her tongue passes Angela’s clit, the older woman shudders, right from the base of her spine. Fareeha marvels at how even in a scenario of complete submission, the slightest flick of her tongue can make Angela twitch and writhe—how at any moment, two syllables is all she needs to retake the reigns.

In the safety of her abandon, Fareeha becomes hyper-focused on her mistress’s reactions. She seeks the most sensitive points her tongue can find, playing upon them with gusto when a flick or a lick draws a particularly toe curling response from Angela. The corners of her lips curl into a smile as her mouth fills with the taste of Angela’s sex. It dribbles down her chin, as if her lover is a ripe, juicy fruit into which Fareeha had greedily sunk her teeth.

Angela begins to speak, but her words disappear into a breathless moan. “W-Wait,” she finally manages, causing Fareeha to pause. Angela leans forward. “Let me get at your hands.”

Fareeha assents, and Angela unknots the bra from Fareeha’s wrists. “Behave now, my love,” Angela instructs. “No hands on me, and  _ no _ touching yourself, either.”

“Then why remove my bindings?” Everything feels dreamlike, and her body is warm despite her nakedness. Angela flashes her a stern look in reply, and she adjusts herself. “Sorry, Mistress. Why, Mistress?”

“Your duties will be more taxing when you can’t breath,” Angela says simply. “I want you to be able to support yourself with your hands.”

“Can’t breath, Miss—?” Fareeha’s question is interrupted as Angela pinches the soldier’s nose between two fingers, and tugs her head back between those pearlescent thighs.

“Eat up, darling,” Angela says. “Do well and I’ll let you breathe. Do  _ very _ well, and it will be your turn.”

Fareeha’s heart races at the sudden escalation of the scene. She buries her face between Angela’s legs again, resting on all fours, resuming where she’d left off. After a couple of seconds, Angela releases the grip on Fareeha’s nose and allows the soldier a much needed breath of air.

Angela never denies her breath for long, pinching Fareeha’s nose only a few seconds at a time, with long gaps to breathe between, but the sensation is still enough to push Fareeha deeper into subspace, and make her feel as if her life itself is in the good doctor’s hands.

Fareeha's consciousness becomes absolutely focused on two deep thirsts: for air and for her lover's pleasure. Everything else slips away, and she hardly notices as her own hand impulsive wanders towards her erect cock until Angela slips it aside with one foot.

“Ah, ah— _ AH!”  _ Angela's tutting is briefly interrupted by her own exaltation of pleasure. “If you want your turn, my pet, you need to …  _ mmm _ … work for it.”

Fareeha falls into a steady rhythm, working her tongue inside Angela, over her clit, at the edge of her lips, doubling her intensity each time Angela’s fingers pinch down as if to prove that she’s deserving of breath. Then, Angela's fingers snap free, and without removing her mouth from her partner's cunt, Fareeha inhales.

Breath to breath, she can feel Angela crumbling. The domme's fingers start to shake, her legs quiver and her entire body squirms and shudders with pleasure. Moans and whimpers escape Angela's throat and sweat beads on her brow. Her voice is  breathy, all composure gone, as it urges Fareeha on.  _ “Ja, ja… Ah, mein Leib… Yes!  _ A little longer, stay strong...”

Fareeha finally pushes her over the edge soon after being allowed a breath. Angela lets out a hoarse grunt and accidentally yanks at Fareeha's nose, hard enough it's a wonder that she doesn't get a nose bleed. She rocks her hips forward and wraps her legs around Fareeha's head, as if in a concerted effort to melt into her lover's form.

Angela's fingers release Fareeha's nose but Fareeha's face is so firmly buried between the others thighs that the added freedom affords her no air. Still she persists through the ordeal, gulping up Angela's wetness as she squirts, the ejaculation further slicking Fareeha's already messy face. 

Fareeha doesn't relent in the rhythmic drive of her tongue, knowing Angela's love of overstimulation, and the doctor's legs lock even tighter than before. Fareeha endures the entire climax, breathless, until Angela's legs finally part and Fareeha collapses on the soft carpeting, dizzy and gasping for air.

“Are you okay,  _ Härzli?” _ Angela asks as she huffs for breath, sliding off the couch and laying herself beside Fareeha. She wraps Fareeha into an embrace, caressing her lover’s face with one hand. “Breathe now, darling,” she whispers softly as  she plants kisses on Fareeha’s crown, “you did well. I’m sorry I pushed you so far, I didn’t mean...”

Fareeha rolls onto her side, nuzzling into Angela’s arms and continuing to catch her breath. “Remember that time…” she begins before petering off. 

“Ssh. Easy, love,” Angela whispers, tucking Fareeha’s head under her chin. 

“That time when,” Fareeha continues, “you went down on me… Got so distracted I nearly choked you out.”

Angela snorts. “That was  _ terrible _ ,” she says with a giggle. “Maybe getting  _ you _ to choke on  _ my _ come was fitting revenge.”

Fareeha chuckles. “Maybe.”

“Still, you did well,” Angela says. “Now the doctor has a treat for you.”

Fareeha can’t help but break into further giggles at Angela’s commitment to her naughty doctor persona. Angela can barely contain her own snickers as she rolls Fareeha onto her back and straddles her. Her laughter is quickly stifled as Angela leans down and presses a sensuous kiss to her lips.

As Angela pulls away, Fareeha gasps. “I-I’m ready, Mistress.”

Angela playfully flicks Fareeha’s erect penis with one nail. “I can see that you are, my pet.”

Angela takes in the sight of Fareeha lying beneath her, and smiles. She runs her fingers across Fareeha’s copper skin; its geography is marked by the hills of muscles and breasts, the irregular bumps and lines of scar tissue and traversed by streams of sweat. Her fingers spread open across Fareeha’s chest, kneading the soldier’s firm breasts. 

Angela smiles, and the light of the setting sun that’s pouring in the broad windows of the doctor’s apartment wreath her in a nimbus of warm light. Fareeha is left breathless by the sight, no blouse needed. 

“You know,” Angela says, “I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as you,  _ neshume.” _

Fareeha opens her mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. Angela may be kind, but getting such genuine warmth from her is so rare that all Fareeha can do is gape. Her heart thunders in her chest, and for the first time she realizes just how in love she is with her lifelong friend.

Before she can compose herself Angela takes her cock in one hand, and slides on to it. Fareeha’s breath hitches and her hips arch of their own accord. “Just lay still,  _ hartse,” _ Angela says. “I’ll take care of you.”

The rocking of Angela’s hips is gentle, but the bite of the hair band around her testicles is enough to push Fareeha into that indeterminate space between pleasure and pain. Her fingers dig into the carpet as Angela gently gyrates on top of her.

Having already been pushed near the point of climax, it's not difficult for Angela to bring Fareeha to the point of writhing with pleasure. The dull ache in her testicles, and their constraint by the hair band, only intensifies the experience, tantalizingly pushing the threshold for orgasm just out of reach.

Angela shows the rest of her body small attentions. Fingers tweak her nipples, teeth graze her collarbone, breasts press together, dexterous fingers caress her still sticky cheeks. It doesn't take much extra stimulation to derive shudders and moans from Fareeha, thoroughly worked as her body has been.

Fareeha often feels awkward in her body. She may “pass” just fine, but certain things have always felt slightly  _ off _ for her. Shoulders slightly too broad, jawline too strong, feet too large, breasts not quite the right shape… She's typically hyper-aware of the ways in which her body defies what she's been told a woman should be. Fareeha is self-assured, confident and bold—but beneath that brave armour she has doubts of her own.  

Being a lesbian, and having laid next to her fair share of cis women, is its own difficulty. Minor peculiarities, as well as her decision not to “renovate her plumbing,” suddenly feel even more starkly out of place. Angela  _ should _ make her feel that way—pale and blonde and thin and undeniably cissexual—and sometimes she does, but tonight, lying beneath the doctor on the soft carpeting, Fareeha feels wonderfully  _ whole. _

The way Angela looks at and touches her, with honest and open admiration, dispels any doubts that might linger in the back of her mind, whispering to her like foul little spirits. The sensation of Angela's rocking hips, the warm, wet tightness of her cunt, the cut of her hair band on sensitive skin, all firmly plant Fareeha in her body.

She is her flesh, and that flesh is beautiful, and she's having a  _ very  _ good time. These thoughts, indeed, only come as intimations to be explored in later rumination. In the moment, all she's capable of is  _ feeling _ : the reflexive squirming of pleasure, the ache of spent muscles and the swelling of pleasure in her loins that is absolutely desperate for eruption. And the only whispers come from Angela's lips, smeared with the messy remains of whatever lipstick hasn't been transferred to Fareeha's skin, which glistens like the surf-kissed beaches of Taba.

“I want you,  _ Härzli,”  _ Angela whispers, stretched forward over Fareeha like a cat. Her hot breath tickles Fareeha's neck as behind her cunt teases the tip of the Egyptian's prick. “All of you. Would you fill me up,  _ mein leib?  _ Do you want to come inside me?”

“Y-Yes,” Fareeha stammers. “Please, Mistress.”

She wraps her arms around Angela, tugging the other close and tight. The domme does not rebuff her, instead clinging to her with equal passion—this is Fareeha's reward, and she can touch as much as she pleases. Fareeha's hips buck up, and she penetrates Angela fully. Angela lets out a gasp that settles into a low purr of pleasure.

The pair grind together in desperate passion; it's messy and frenetic, their gyrations out of sync and driven by reflex and hunger. Fareeha can feel herself rising steadily towards climax. The constraint of the hair tie makes the ascent more arduous than usual, but that only doubles her pleasure. It’s overstimulating, but Fareeha barely has the will to slow her thrusts.

Angela twitches and shudders in Fareeha's arms as her body, too, rises to another crescendo. She's practically jelly atop Fareeha, letting out a series of animal moans as her lover thunders between her legs.

Angela's teeth sink into Fareeha's shoulder  while Fareeha bites her own lower lip, and together they tip over the edge. Fareeha reaches her peak and tumbles down in a single moment, her thrusts suddenly turning slow and purposeful as she comes inside Angela in steady pulses. 

Angela herself climaxes with an indulgent moan, twitching with each thrust as Fareeha thoroughly fills her overstimulated sex. Fareeha's hips collapse to the floor, and Angela rests on top of her, still penetrated, the last of the soldier's load dribbling out inside her.

Fareeha's brain feels as if it's crashed and rebooted. They lay together, two women reduced to puddles, gasping for air and quaking. Their bodies vent heat, much as the Raptora suit does after a barrage.

Angela giggles and lifts her head, looking at Fareeha with absolute wonder. “Love! We came together…”

“We did,” Fareeha replies breathlessly, a smile rising on her face like a summer sunrise.

Angela slowly lifts her body off her partner's. “I have one last task for you,  _ ketzele,”  _ she coos. She crawls until her legs straddle Fareeha's head. “Taste yourself. But don’t swallow! Yet.” 

Fareeha nods, and Angela lowers her ass until she’s sitting on the other’s face. Fareeha’s hands rise to hold Angela’s hips as her tongue once again parts those pink lips, carefully drawing her come into her mouth. Angela squeaks and giggles at the touch of Fareeha’s tongue, and Fareeha can’t help but chuckle herself.

_ “No! _ Don’t laugh  _ there,” _ Angela whines, hardly able to stifle her own giggles. The gravity of the scene is completely upended, but there’s a tender warmth between them that makes Fareeha feel at absolute ease.

Finally, Fareeha’s mouth is full of all the come she can recover from inside Angela, and she’s managed to stem her laughter enough not to choke and sputter on it. Angela crawls backwards, resting her bottom on Fareeha’s lap. “Sit up,  _ mayn hartse,” _ Angela instructs. “Show me your hard work.” 

Fareeha sits up, propping her arms behind her, and opens her mouth to show Angela the gooey whiteness pooling on her tongue. Angela smiles softly and takes Fareeha’s face in her hands. “You did  _ so _ well,” Angela whispers reverently. “The best you’ve done yet. I’m proud of you, my pet.”

The words make Fareeha’s heart skip a beat, and she readily accepts Angela’s lips as the other leans in for a kiss. The come passes between them, back and forth, as they make out. The taste is hardly pleasant, but the intimacy of the moment is beyond words. 

Finally, they part, each with a mix of vaginal fluid, semen and saliva in her mouth—indeterminately combined by their joining. Angela swallows first, the gulp visible in her throat, then opens her empty mouth for Fareeha. Fareeha follows suit, taking seed, spit and her lover’s slickness into her belly. 

Angela shifts off Fareeha’s lap, and carefully removes the hairband from between Fareeha’s legs, prompting a slight wince from the soldier. “Is it sore?” Angela asks, suddenly switching into doctor mode. “Does it hurt when I touch it?”

“A little,” Fareeha says bashfully.

Angela places a peck on her cheek. “I’ll heal you up,” she chirps. “What would you like for aftercare?”

Fareeha takes Angela’s hand in hers. “A hot bath,” she says. “And don’t let go of me.”

Angela squeezes Fareeha’s hand as she stands and helps Fareeha up. “I’m with you,  _ härzli.” _ Then the medic leads her soldier to the bath.  
  


* * *

  
Later that evening, the pair are curled up together in Angela’s bed. Each woman cradles a warm mug of herbal tea in her hands, and the butts of two cigarettes lay ashed out in a saucer on the nightstand. 

They chatter about the sex. “My doctor gimmick wasn’t … too much?” Angela asks bashfully.

_ “Honestly, _ Angela, it’s adorable,” Fareeha replies. “Goofy, but I like you when you let yourself be goofy.”

Angela smiles and an easy silence passes between them before Angela breaks it. “You know,” she begins, voice tentative, “about our argument…”

Without thinking, Fareeha tenses. “Yes?”

“Really,” Angela continues, sensing the change in the other’s mood. “I just. I worry for you, Fareeha.”

“You have a strange way of showing it,” Fareeha says as she sips her tea. Her tone is bitter, and she says the words without thinking. As soon as she’s spoken, she prepares herself for the next bout of arguing.

Angela looks away, visibly tense herself, and takes a deep breath. Fareeha readies herself for whatever volley is inevitably coming, but instead Angela turns to her and says, “I… I know I can be difficult.”

Fareeha nearly spit takes. The doctor is brilliant and kind-hearted, but humility and acceptance of criticism are not two of her strong suits. “You… I…” Fareeha stammers helplessly until Angela places one finger to her lips, quieting her.

“You were right, Fareeha,” Angela says. “As much as I’ve dealt with death, it terrifies me.” Her fingers curl white knuckled around her mugs as she speaks. “After everyone I’ve lost, the thought of losing you too is … unbearable.”

“Angela, you  _ won’t _ lose me.” Fareeha places her mug down and wraps the shorter woman up in a warm embrace. “I’ll be fine, and if I get hurt, I have the best doctor in the world to patch me up.”

“You should stay safe for your  _ own _ sake,  _ Schätzli,” _ Angela retorts with a frown. “I’m… I’ve been selfish, and I’ve taken my emotions out on you. It’s… not right.  _ Es tut mir leid, _ Fareeha.” As she apologizes, she looks away, a red hue rising to her cheeks.

Fareeha loosens her embrace. “I’ve hardly been easy myself,” she says. “I know I can be … guarded.”

“Well, I’ve hardly given you reason to open up!”

“But I can be just as stubborn and judgmental! We certainly have  _ that  _ in common.”

Angela chuckles wryly. “You’re incorrigible, but so am I. It’s true. Perhaps we deserve each other.”

The suggestion makes Fareeha blush herself, though she tries to hide it. “Honestly, Angela,” she says quickly, “I don’t think you’re naive at all. I admire your kindness, your commitment… ‘Mercy’ was a fitting call sign. You’ve make the world … better.”

“Really?” Angela turns to Fareeha and smiles. “Well, it was wholly unfair of me to call you brutish,” she continues. “I’ve met my fair share of gruff soldiers, but you’ve always been… sensitive, playful even. Like Gabriel was, back in the good days. What you’ve done in service… The world is lucky to have you to protect it. I can’t help but admire you, too.”

Fareeha giggles, absolutely gleeful. “You  _ admire _ me?”

“Immensely!” Angela nudges her with one elbow. “I’ve been far too quiet about it. I’d like to change that.”

“Angela…”

“You know, if Overwatch fulfills you… You have my complete support. You, Lena, Winston… You have good hearts. You’ll do justice to your mother’s legacy. Perhaps surpass it.” Angela looks into her mug bashfully, her cheeks growing redder by the second.

Fareeha squirms herself, wholly unfamiliar with this level of tender candor. She nervously twirls one of her braids between two fingers. “You know my mother always had a soft spot for you,” she says. “She’d be happy to see that we’re…”

Angela’s brow furrows. “I don’t know what we are.”

“Me neither,” Fareeha says.

“I—” Angela’s voice hitches in her throat, but she persists. “I know what we  _ could _ be, though.”

Fareeha’s heart skips a beat. “...yes?” She doesn’t want to say it, as if speaking it would shatter the moment, or wake her up from what certainly must be a pleasant dream.

Angela twists one damp lock of blonde hair around her finger. “Partners…  _ Ja? _ Like … Sweethearts. We could… ‘Go steady,’ like they say in those ancient holo-vids. If you’d like.”

Fareeha is split by the sudden desire to, at once, hop out of bed and do a jig, scream for joy and kiss her lover (or is it her girlfriend, now?) firmly on the lips. Instead she opts to stammer out an exuberant, “Y-Yes!”

Angela’s smiles ear to ear as she sets aside her mug. “You know, when we were in the living room and I was on top of you, with the sun setting—!”

“Angela,” Fareeha interrupts with a chuckle, “slow down. Breathe.”

Angela clears her throat and continues, more slowly. “In the dusk light, when you were beneath me… You looked so beautiful. You—You were  _ never _ just a fuck to me, Fareeha, but until that moment I was too scared to admit how very much I love you.”

Fareeha’s chuckle blossoms into full blown laughter. “I thought the same thing at the same time!”

“We  _ do _ deserve each other!” Angela nuzzles up against Fareeha, shaking with laughter.

“We do,” Fareeha agrees. “We really do.”

Angela looks up at her. “I’ll be less critical, I promise.”

“I’ll be more open,” Fareeha replies.

“I’ll give you the praise you deserve  _ outside _ the bedroom,” Angela says with a sly wink.

“And I’ll be less judgmental!”

“I won’t take things out on you unfairly!”

“I’ll listen, and be understanding.”

“Me too,” Angela says with a firm nod. “I know I’m not perfect…”

“Neither am I.”

“...but I want to love you like you deserve.” Angela plants a soft kiss on Fareeha’s neck. “I’ll work for it, you’re worth it, and deserve no less.”

“Thank you, love” Fareeha says, planting a kiss on Angela’s forehead.

Angela knits her fingers with Fareeha’s and squeezes. “Let’s be good to each other. If we’re not perfect, let’s grow … together.”

“Agreed,” Fareeha replies. “No more arguments?”

Angela giggles. “That’s another thing I love about you. So optimistic! How about we try for  _ fewer _ arguments first.”

“Deal!” Fareeha says with a chuckle.

The pair cuddle up securely under the covers, laughing together for joy.

“I love you,  _ neshume,”  _ Angela whispers at one point.

Fareeha whispers back, “And I love you,  _ rruhi.” _

They lapse into silence, speaking through gentle touches, and basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies. Fareeha loses track of the passage of time, before it occurs to her to mention an important caveat.

“No more— _ Less _ arguing, of course,” she says. “That  _ sex _ though.”

“Oh,  _ definitely.” _

“We absolutely have to do that again.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Angela asks.

Fareeha reaches one arm out from under the covers. “Let’s give it a day, maybe,” she replies. “I’m  _ sore.”  _ The pair fall into giggles together as Fareeha flicks off the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [here.](http://sylveonplath.tumblr.com/) Feedback here or on tumblr is not only welcomed, but encouraged!
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Further Notes:**
> 
> Ana is alive, Fareeha and Angela just aren't aware of it yet.
> 
> Taba is a small Egyptian town on the Sinai Peninsula, near Egypt's border with Israel. It is home to a resort and is part of Egypt's Red Sea Riviera.
> 
> Angela only calls partners _neshume_ when she's really, truly in love.
> 
> Sapphires are Fareeha's favorite precious stone. She chose the safe word.
> 
> After this, they argue less and work hard to love each other as they deserve. It's not always easy, but they grow a lot together. They become very happy.
> 
>  
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
>  _Habibti (Arabic):_ Feminine form of habibi, meaning "beloved." Term of endearment.
> 
>  _Scheiße (German):_ Shit.
> 
>  _Hartse (Yiddish):_ Darling. Term of endearment.
> 
>  _Müsli (Swiss German):_ Little mouse. Term of endearment.
> 
>  _Feygele (Yiddish):_ Little bird. Used (mostly antiquated) as a pet name, but is most commonly used as the Yiddish equivalent of "faggot." There's an intentional and conscious play between its meaning as an endearment (doubled with Mercy and Pharah's bird-inspired aesthetics) and as a cheeky and ironic joke between a Jewish bisexual woman and her lesbian lover.
> 
>  _Schätzli (Swiss German):_ Little treasure. Term of endearment.
> 
>  _Ketzele (Yiddish):_ Kitten. Term of endearment.
> 
>  _Mein Leib (German):_ "My love."
> 
>  _Härzli (Swiss German):_ Little heart.
> 
>  _Neshume (Yiddish):_ From Hebrew (neshama). "Soul" or "spirit," literally "breath." Has a double meaning as a term of endearment, akin to "darling" or "my soul."
> 
>  _Rruhi (Arabic):_ Spirit, "my soul." Term of endearment.


End file.
